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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445647">Jurisdiction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent'>manic_intent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ant-Man (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Canon, That AU where Scott tries to impress Jimmy post-Blip by helping him solve cases</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let’s say that I met someone kinda cute,” Scott said as he and Luis sat down for tacos in Taqueria El Farolito, hunched over their burritos against the bright yellow and orange wall. “But we didn’t meet in the best of circumstances, and they probably hate me. How would I fix things?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott Lang/Jimmy Woo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>451</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jurisdiction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/aruna/gifts">aruna</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For @aruna, who asked for Antman, Scott/Jimmy, First Time, Scott tries to woo Jimmy by helping him solve cases.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Let’s say that I met someone kinda cute,” Scott said as he and Luis sat down for tacos in Taqueria El Farolito, hunched over their burritos against the bright yellow and orange wall. “But we didn’t meet in the best of circumstances, and they probably hate me. How would I fix things?” </p><p>Luis gave Scott an unimpressed stare as he took a big bite of his burrito. The stare lasted a second before Luis closed his eyes, shunted instantly to palate heaven by the tender carnitas packed against rice and beans and more in his burrito. Scott was used to it, having eaten at the taqueria with Luis before. While waiting for Luis’ brain to come back online, he worked on his own: a thickly fragrant al pastor regular. </p><p>“We talking about Hope? Man, she way out of your league. I've been telling you, the other day, when I was walking past a park, I saw this pigeon, and there was another pigeon, and... mmfph. Man. I love this place,” Luis said, staring reverently at his burrito. “The carnitas are almost as good as my grandmother's, and that's magical, that is.” </p><p>“No, no. Not Hope. We’re just friends, man,” Scott said. </p><p>“Seriously? Isn’t she like, loaded to the max? A billionaire? Scott, my bro, in this world, a teeny tiny number of people own all the wealth, and she's one of them. That club is so select; if you got in on it, even your great-grandchildren will be sailing in yachts eating tiny shrimps as the ocean boils and the world burns. What’s wrong with you?” Now Luis looked disappointed. “Don't you want your descendants to be part of the last remnants of people clinging desperately to life on the dying planet?” </p><p>“Luis, sometimes your monologues get oddly dark.”</p><p>“I can't help it. Every time I see some rich asshole go by in their shiny luxury cars I think, what's the point of having all that money if the ocean's overfished, if bits of the world are going to keep catching fire, if some cities are already out of water, and if we're within another extinction event? Man, it's like nobody cares that we're already in the middle of an apocalypse.” Luis paused. “No zombies, though. Maybe that's why none of these rich folks are freaking out.” </p><p>“O-kay. Uh. Back to Hope. I wasn’t dating her. We’re friends, and I’ll never date anyone for their money, Christ.” </p><p>“I don’t know, man. It’s a lot of money. More money than all of us in this taqueria can make in our lifetimes kind of money, which is sort of crazy if you think about it. Sorry, I can't get over that point. Sometimes I look at some ants, and I think, if they ever got smarter, maybe by eating weird fertiliser or something, you know I recently watched this film called Dark Waters, that one about the lawyer played by the guy who looks kind of like the Hulk—mmph. So good. Burrito love.” Luis closed his eyes again in bliss. </p><p>“Setting this fixation aside,” Scott said with a sour look, “are you going to give me any constructive advice or what? You’re my guru of last resort. I’ve asked other people, and nobody was remotely helpful.” Hope had guessed who it was off the bat and told Scott not to be ‘self-destructive’, Paxton had just said to ‘buy them flowers or something’, and Maggie suggested ‘doing the usual thing, dates and stuff’. </p><p>“Okay, okay. Ooh, burrito love. Um.” Luis chewed quickly, staring adoringly at his burrito. “I need more info, man. Can't come up with a game plan without details. Is this person our age? What are they working as? How’d you meet? That kinda thing. Ooh. I think I know who it is. You being so cagey and so weird about it and paying for dinner at a taqueria. Is it that guy in the full-body costume, I saw him on the news once talking about chimichangas... Dead root? Dead tooth?”</p><p>“Who, what? No. You haven't met him, I think... no, actually, you might've. During the last incident with the thing.” Scott lowered his voice, in case anyone in the taqueria was an FBI informant or something. “You know, with the ghost.” </p><p>“Ghost? What ghost?“ Luis' voice rose an octave. “You got ghosts? How bad is it? Casper the Ghost bad, or Exorcist bad? It's Exorcist bad, isn't it? You want me to talk to my pastor? I think he knows some priests who could maybe come in and try to do a thing.” </p><p>“No! No. You met this one. You know. Angry lady. Unstable tech.”</p><p>“Oh, that... wait. You're dating <i>her</i>? Jesus, God, and Mother Mary, Scott. I'm not trying to judge, but I’m totally judging you. She tried to kill me and the boys, man. She scares me. Scares me more than my aunts, and that is seriously next level.” Luis was so shocked that he briefly lowered his burrito a fraction.</p><p>“No. Don't jump to conclusions. It isn't her. I don't know where she is, anyway. Last I heard she was working on something with the family.”</p><p>“The Family? Like, the mafia? The Godfather and stuff? I didn't know that San Francisco still had that kind of thing, but it makes total sense now, every time I see a well-dressed Italian in a suit I'm like, maybe out there, there's a parallel world where everything runs on pirate coins, and there's a man who will kill 77 people over a dog.” </p><p>“Luis,” Scott said, very seriously, “you are a great friend, but sometimes, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about.” </p><p>“So who is this person? Don't keep beating around the point.” Luis took a big bite of his burrito.</p><p>“He's in law enforcement. His name's Jimmy.” </p><p>Luis stared at Scott incredulously for a long moment, chewing slowly. “No.” </p><p>“I mean, it's not ideal, I know that.”</p><p>“You didn’t.” </p><p>“I can be careful!”</p><p>“Cassie's new dad? Maggie's new hubby? Scott, man, you're a good friend and all, but I've got to get the boys together and stage an intervention here. We ain't gonna be bros before hos if it's a homewrecker situation. Sure, the guy got with your ex when we were in the slammer, but—”</p><p>“<i>What</i>. It's not Jimmy Paxton, Jesus. It's Jimmy Woo,” Scott hissed, horrified by the insinuation. </p><p>Luis scrunched up his face. “Woo? I don't know a... how'd you spell that?” </p><p>“Like the film director.” </p><p>“Jimmy Woo?” Luis looked blank. “Who's that? I don't know a. Oh. Oh, man. You did not. I mean. The FBI guy? Bro, have we not taught you anything?” </p><p>Scott gave up. “Forget it.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>At the heart of it all, Jimmy was a cop, right? What did cops like more than solving cases and busting ass? That was what lots of cop shows and films had in common, Scott would tell Luis later. Didn't cops in movies always fall in love with people who helped them to solve stuff? Besides, Scott was technically double hatting. Helping out while doing superhero stuff. That was what the superhero suit and the superhero nickname were for, right? Superhero stuff.<p>Hacking into FBI comms was, okay, maybe a teeny bit illegal, but doing stuff in the Ant-Man suit was illegal, and so was vigilantism anyway. Scott felt that he might as well go all-in. Besides, the world was a mess right now. Post-Blip, the world's economy was in shambles. Crime was at a record high. What was wrong with stopping a few assaults, preventing the corner store from getting robbed, or helping some FBI agents find a stolen bioweapon? It was all the same, Scott told Jimmy when Jimmy showed up at his house. </p><p>“You're not even trying to hide it. Impressive,” Jimmy said. They were sitting at the dining table, having tea from some ancient packs that Scott had found in the back cabinets. The years had been tight during the blip: with Paxton and Scott both MIA, Maggie and Cassie had gotten by through careful rationing. Not that the food situation had improved—in a way, it'd gotten worse. Everyone returning abruptly post-Blip had strained an already strained post-Blip economy and food supply. </p><p>“How'd you know it was me?“ Scott asked. “Are you surveilling me from my laptop?”</p><p>“Your abilities are obvious. What are you and the Pyms up to now? Interfering with criminal investigations isn't going to help them any. If they want to be exonerated, they'd need to present themselves to the authorities and cooperate,” Jimmy said, taking a sip of his tea and eyeing Scott soberly. </p><p>“This doesn't have anything to do with the Pyms. Hope told me to lie low.” </p><p>“Good advice for people in your position.” </p><p>“So why am I not under arrest?” Scott asked, with what he hoped was a winning smile. </p><p>Jimmy let out a snort. He put down his cup and looked away, over the untidy mess that was Scott's house post-Maggie-and-Cassie. Maggie and Cassie had moved back to Paxton's place, which had thankfully been kept intact by Paxton's neighbours. “We don't have the manpower right now,” Jimmy admitted. “Our caseload doubled post-Blip. People are hungry, angry, and desperate.” </p><p>“So let me help. Let <i>us</i> help, even.”</p><p>“Us?”</p><p>Hoping he wasn't about to get all his friends into trouble, Scott said, “Well, um. People like the Pyms, maybe Ghost if she's still around, maybe even some of the Avengers? That spider-kid was pretty good.” </p><p>“Spiderman has his hands full,” Jimmy said. “He's on a mission in Europe.” </p><p>“You people will use kids but not me?” Scott couldn't hide his disappointment. Sure, the kid was good, but he was a kid. Kids should be in school, not going off to Europe to do Avengers stuff, or whatever it was. That was deliberate child endangerment. “I'm an Avenger too. Surely the FBI or SHIELD or whatever isn't desperate enough to resort to child endangerment when there are other people around. Like me,” Scott said, in case Jimmy didn't get the point.  </p><p>Jimmy looked at him with a wan smile. “It isn't my call. Even if it were, I wouldn't use you. Good intentions aside, you have no respect for authority, and you're too much of a wild card. You'd be too unpredictable to factor into an operation.” </p><p>“While a kid isn't? Come on.” Scott tried not to look hurt, but Jimmy reached over, patting him on the knuckles. His hand was gun-roughened, warm. </p><p>“I appreciate the offer, Mister Lang, but stay out of my way. Thanks for the tea.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>“Why am I helping you stalk an FBI agent?” Hope asked as they watched Jimmy directing a group of agents to spread out around an abandoned factory complex. Hope and Scott were on the roof of one of the blocks in their miniaturised forms, observing the situation.<p>“Because we're doing good with our tech?”</p><p>“My family's tech, you mean,” Hope said, though she sounded amused. “Scott, interfering with an FBI operation isn't doing good. Why should we be abetting the police? I'm sure they can handle it. Besides, the FBI gets up to all sorts of ugly shit. Remember when they wiretapped and tried to blackmail Martin Luther King Jr? Or more recently, when they fucked over the—” </p><p>“Okay, okay,” Scott said. “You don't have to help out if you don't want to.”</p><p>Hope muttered something under her breath. Below, Jimmy was standing by as a pair of agents started to set up a strange-looking silvery device. “No. There's something weird going on down here. I'm going to take a look at that device."</p><p>“Careful.”</p><p>“Don't worry, I'm not incompetent, unlike some people I know.” </p><p>“What's that supposed to mean?” Scott said, but Hope had already flit off the side of the building. Jimmy was on the move, his service piece held low as he followed behind a team that was sneaking over to a side entrance in the building. Scott's ants hadn't found anything suspicious in the factory, which was why Scott and Hope had been waiting up top. The FBI had recently patched their comms vulnerability, and Scott was still working on finding a new backdoor. </p><p>As Scott quietly followed Jimmy from the rooftop, Hope said over the comms, “Are you sure that Jimmy's from the FBI?”</p><p>“Yeah, why? You don't exactly just fake something like that. I've seen his badge. Hell, I've looked up his file.”</p><p>“That's a breach of privacy. You need to see a therapist.” </p><p>“He breached <i>my</i> privacy,” Scott muttered. “Uh, not in that way. I mean, not in the way that I want. Ah, please forget that you heard that. Anyway, it was back when I was under house arrest? I got bored one day and was just poking around.” </p><p>“Poking around, casually committing federal crimes.” </p><p>“You're a federal crime,” Scott said, which wasn't one of his best comebacks. </p><p>“It continues to amaze me that you're in your fifties.” </p><p>“What makes you think Jimmy isn't in the FBI?” Scott asked hastily before Hope got into a severe snit and left. </p><p>“This device has a SHIELD logo, that's why. And I'm fairly sure all these agents he's been ordering around are SHIELD agents.” </p><p>Jimmy <i>had</i> been weirdly casual about talking about Spiderman's Europe mission. Poor kid, though, getting his cover blown and all. Damn. Hope had reached out, offering to help the kid lawyer up and put in the fix with a PR team, but Parker had said no. Last that Scott and Hope had heard, Parker had gone somewhere to hopefully lawyer up and lie low. Maybe the Stark estate was handling things. With the 24/7 news cycle and Parker being a cute white kid, the furore had died down quickly without further incident anyway. </p><p>Inside the factory, Jimmy and the agents spread out quietly behind cover behind abandoned equipment on the production floor. Once satisfied, Jimmy pressed his fingertips to his ear, murmuring something. “They're doing something to the device,” Hope said.</p><p>“I think things are going to go down.”</p><p>“Down? Down where?” Hope asked, being still sadly unacquainted with slang despite her association with Scott, Luis, and the others. </p><p>Scott gasped. There was a flicker of blue light in the factory, crackling over the empty floor and earthing itself against machinery. Something grew from the shadows, a nightmare thing of teeth and eyes and spindly legs that spread from its bulbous form in any direction. Just as Scott was about to leap down and start punching, the thing made a sound like steel scraping against steel. </p><p>Jimmy stepped forward, slowly holstering his gun as he checked something projected over his wrist. “You are the Emissary?” Jimmy asked. A scraping steel sound came from his wrist. </p><p>The creature crouched, lining up a brace of their eyes close to Jimmy. The steel sound they made was softer now, and Jimmy was nodding as he checked what was probably a translation. At a gesture, the other agents holstered their weapons, though they stayed behind cover. The Emissary ignored them. “The new Lord of Asgard is on Earth. No, we do not speak on her behalf. You'd have to ask her... No. Yes.”</p><p>As far as Scott could tell, the Emissary and Jimmy were having a polite conversation about current global politics on Earth. Were they that fascinating to dimensional beings? Wasn't Earth some kind of dull backwater? Why did weird aliens and otherworldly creatures find it so exciting? If Scott were a powerful purple giant with severe sociopathic tendencies, he wouldn't have bothered throwing down on Earth. He'd have done it somewhere less passé.</p><p>“Uh oh,” Hope said. </p><p>“What's up? Jimmy looks fine. He's just having a chat with a leg monster.”</p><p>“A leg what? I'm talking about the weird blue light flickering around the device. The agents here are getting antsy.”</p><p>“It's fine; it reveals inter-dimensional beings, I think. The leg creatures look friendly. Even though they talk like they're made of a bunch of scissors.” The Emissary was swaying gently, getting animated as they talked. “Thanks to Asgard getting destroyed and then Thanos doing his Blip nonsense, the universe is in the crapper, and they want the Asgardians to get their shit together and do something about it.”</p><p>“Scott,” Hope said, sounding tense, “I don't think I'm looking at a 'leg creature' here. They look more like people from that set of films you like to quote at inappropriate intervals.” </p><p>“Which set?” Scott had spent his house arrest perusing Netflix extensively. </p><p>“The films where you said I looked like one of the characters.” </p><p>Hope looked like a certain elf character in the Hobbit, which meant... “What? Like the Orc or the Uruk-hai? The angry people with the armour?” Scott got onto a flying ant.</p><p>“More like the pointy-eared tall people, except these have guns and they're floating. The agents are—” Hope yelped. There was the sound of something sizzling and a scream. In the factory floor below, the ball crouched down, skittering in surprise as Jimmy flinched.</p><p>“Yuen, what's happening?” Jimmy demanded. “Agent Yuen?”</p><p>“You all right?” Scott asked Hope. </p><p>“Busy now,” Hope grit out, and went quiet. More blue lightning flickered over the floor, and a handful of what definitely looked a little like space elves floated into view. Slender and tall, they looked stretched in their plated armour, their arms ending in sophisticated mechanical implements that Scott couldn't identify. One raised an arm at the Emissary, speaking in a fluting voice as their device began to glow. </p><p>Jimmy tackled the space elf. A green blast of light earthed itself as a scorch mark inches away from where Scott was hiding, and the fight broke out across the floor like a bad movie. Elves versus federal agents? Bring it <i>on</i>. “All in a day's work,” Scott murmured, directing the ant he rode to dive.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>“Are you following me?” Jimmy asked as they were seated in a corner.<p>“I should be the one asking that,” Scott said with a pointed look around them. El Castillito was getting crowded, with people packed in a queue and settling against the round yellow tables. “This is my fav burrito spot.”</p><p>“I didn't know that.”</p><p>“Sure you didn’t,” Scott said, chuckling. “It's probably in my file or something, right? Surveillance state and all that.”</p><p>“We're in San Francisco, people like burritos, and this is one of my preferred taquerias.” Jimmy was just picking at his burrito, though. “Answer the question.”</p><p>“You seriously asked me out to my favourite taqueria just to interrogate me?” Scott put on an expression of arch disappointment. “You sure know how to hurt a man.” </p><p>Jimmy exhaled, staring at his mostly uneaten burrito. “If I wanted to interrogate you, we'd be in less comfortable surroundings, Mister Lang.”</p><p>“I was thinking, since we've known each other for a while, why don't you call me 'Scott’?” Scott asked with a hopeful smile. </p><p>“Take this seriously. I'm grateful that you and Miss Pym intervened. I know that the fight would've gone badly for us and the Emissary had you both not been there. But this is federal business.”</p><p>“Federal business?” Scott asked, leaning across the table and lowering his voice. “Or SHIELD business?” Jimmy set his jaw, tensing up. “Look,” Scott said, grasping for reasons, “the last time I wasn't here for Avengers stuff, the world went totally to hell, my daughter lost two of her parental figures for years, and at the end of the shitshow, Iron Man died. I guess what I'm trying to say is. I'm worried.”</p><p>“So contact the Avengers.” </p><p>“I've tried? Not sure what's happened, but nobody's picking up. Not that I blame them.“ With the Avengers now either dead or MIA, what remained was a bunch of bit players compared to a team that once fielded a literal God of Thunder.  </p><p>Jimmy looked unconvinced. “If that were the case, you'd be interfering in everyone's work, not just mine. What's your problem with me? I tried to be as fair as I could be, given the circumstances, when I was your case officer. If you have any complaint at all, you should file it in the appropriate venues.” </p><p>Scott gawked at Jimmy. “You thought  I was trying to...? Come on. It wasn't that bad. Besides, if I was trying to mess with you, why would Hope and I try to save you last night? You think she broke her arm for the lulz or what?” </p><p>“She did?“ Jimmy winced and looked abashed. “I didn't realise, I... other than that, are both of you all right?” </p><p>“Scraped and banged up but good. Hope's having a self-care day at home. It wasn't a bad break. She said it was either that or let the machine break, and she guessed that we maybe needed it even to see the space elves and the spider eyeball thing.” </p><p>Jimmy had a strange look on his face, his lips twitching up at the corners. “The Emissary asked me to convey their gratitude and hoped that we would forgive the As'katae'l. They are a warlike species and have always been one.” </p><p>“Did anyone tell the Emissary that humans and Asgardians also get that way? Maybe it's a bipedal sentient species thing.” Scott hesitated. “Or not. Was that a maybe specie-ist thing to say?”</p><p>“... Conversations with you always seem to go off the deep bend,” Jimmy said as the odd expression on his face resolved itself into mild amusement. “If only because your attempts to change the subject get more desperate with time. Why are you following me? Tell me the truth.” </p><p>“I think you're not going to believe me,” Scott said, studying Jimmy's serious face. </p><p>“Try me.”</p><p>Scott lowered his voice. “This isn't the best place to—”</p><p>“Mister Lang.”</p><p>“Are you single?” Scott tried on his best smile.</p><p>Jimmy jerked in his seat, his ears reddening at the tips. “What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>“It's an important question.”</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” Jimmy said, though he didn't get pissed and storm off. “Yes, I'm single. What about it?” </p><p>“Interested in... women? You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to.” </p><p>Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “This had better not be working up to some elaborate punchline.” </p><p>“Deadly serious. I wouldn't joke about something like this.”</p><p>“In people,” Jimmy said, thin-lipped and defensive and annoyed. “And?”</p><p>Relief settled down over Scott like a tide. Sure, this didn't mean that he was Jimmy's type—probably far from it—but he had maybe a smidgen of a chance. “And so maybe I won't get punched out when I tell you, in all seriousness, that I think you're cute and kinda funny and brilliant and that's why I’m—”</p><p>Jimmy's flush had spread to his cheeks. “This isn't funny, Scott.” </p><p>“You called me Scott! That's an improvement.”</p><p>Jimmy set down his burrito carefully, clenching his hands into fists. He breathed out slowly. “Why do you keep trying to piss me off?”</p><p>“I'm not,” Scott said, bewildered at how angry Jimmy looked. “I'm... Oh, I see. You don't believe me.”</p><p>“Why would I believe you? I invite you to lunch to have a friendly chat—outside of an interrogation cell—and you spend all of it lying to me. Now you're trying to make an inappropriate joke at my expense.”</p><p>Scott rubbed a hand slowly over his face. “You know what? Forget it. I don't even know why I thought I'd... forget it. Thanks for lunch, Agent Woo.” He dropped his burrito on the plate and got up. </p><p>Jimmy frowned at him. “Sit down. We aren't done.”</p><p>“I think we are. I'm not sorry that I tried to save your ass last night, but you know what? Fuck you.” That was satisfying to say, all the way through the drive out of the area until he got stuck in traffic. Closing his eyes, Scott smacked himself on the cheek and rubbed his stinging eyes. “Luis was right. Cops are all assholes.”</p>
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</div>Jimmy looked uncharacteristically nervous in the doorway of Scott’s house.  “Is this a good time?”<p>Scott stared at him, confused. “What's up? Avengers stuff? You could call.” </p><p>“I would if it was something like that.” Jimmy looked even more uncomfortable. “I'm here to apologise.“ </p><p>It'd been a day since the disastrous lunch at El Castillito, and Scott had coped by trying to think of it all as a bad dream. Besides, he'd been kept busy by the Pyms: Janet had some new idea for a phase-shift module that kept misfiring spectacularly. Scott looked Jimmy over, wishing he wasn't functioning on three hours of sleep and eight cups of coffee. Jimmy looked weirdly good in casual clothes, even though it was just a plain black shirt and jeans. Scott hadn't thought that Jimmy had casual clothes. </p><p>Jimmy looked confused. Oops. Scott must've said that out loud. “Why wouldn't I have casual clothes?” </p><p>“Sorry, I'm super wired right now. Come in. Coffee? Tea?”</p><p>“I won’t take up too much of your time. Mister Lang… Scott, I’m sorry about the other day. I won’t offer any excuses for my behaviour. I can only offer you my sincere apologies, and promise that I’ve spent time reflecting on my mistakes.” </p><p>“Whoa, whoa. Let’s not go that far. Please come in.” </p><p>Jimmy walked in stiffly and looked even tenser as Scott waved him to one of the old armchairs instead of to the dining table. He refused a drink, sitting upright with his hands on his knees. “I talked to Hope,” Scott said, sitting at the couch, “and well. You’re right to be a little mad. I don’t mean to get into your way, but sometimes I do.”</p><p>“I’m grateful for the help,” Jimmy said, in a way that sounded like he wasn’t.</p><p>“Sure you are,” Scott said, amused.</p><p>“Will you continue interfering?” Jimmy asked though he relaxed a little, and even smiled faintly. Damn, he was cute. </p><p>“I guess I’d like to. Not just because of the thing I said, you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I’ll respect that. It’s because… you ever hung around with some really rich people? They’re so super-disconnected from the real world sometimes. I thought maybe if I pushed Hope and her parents to get more involved with the good their tech could do that they’d do more. Use some of their money for something other than making stuff go subatomic—” </p><p>“It isn’t that I’m not interested,” Jimmy said, stiff again.</p><p>“Say wha?” Scott blinked.</p><p>“That’s why I thought you were joking. I thought you’d somehow figured it out, despite all I’ve done to hide it. I never thought… you used to be married, and you have a daughter.” </p><p>“I’m single now,” Scott said, then wished that he hadn’t said it. “I love Cassie to bits. Still love Maggie too—my ex-wife. Hell, I even like her new husband. None of that will change just because I start dating again.” </p><p>“Right,” Jimmy said, looking even more uncomfortable. “I don’t… I don’t often date. I don’t have the time, and I’m effectively always on call. My work is my life, and that won’t change.” </p><p>“I see that.” </p><p>“What I’m trying to say is, you could do better.”</p><p>“Haha, very funny… wait. You’re not joking,” Scott said, incredulous. “You seriously think that?” </p><p>“I don’t lead a healthy life by any measure. It’s not something that I want to inflict on other people.” </p><p>“As if my own life’s any better,” Scott pointed out. “I’m mired in experimental tech every day. I don’t even want to think about where all the mass in my body goes when I shrink down.” </p><p>Jimmy laughed. It was a nice laugh, low and warm and infectious. “All right,” he said, rubbing his hand against his cheek. “Frankly, I’m also unsure about the relative ethics of dating someone I used to be involved with on a professional level. I’ve received authorisation to tell you this much. I’m not entirely an FBI agent. I work for SHIELD.” </p><p>“Figured that much, what with you directing SHIELD agents around over the Emissary thing,” Scott said, disappointed all over again. So Jimmy was here to carefully let him down, then. Pity. </p><p>Jimmy nodded slowly. “I was placed into the FBI branch here for one purpose: to oversee and coordinate its Powers arm. Watching people with unusual technology or abilities. That’s my day job, though I do still work on SHIELD matters in my jurisdiction, like with the Emissary. In case you’re wondering, yes, that’s why I went easy on you over the matter of your house arrest.” </p><p>“Easy, huh.” Scott hadn’t figured it that way. </p><p>“You were very obviously breaking the terms of your house arrest. All over YouTube, at that,” Jimmy said, with a sniff. “I’m not that bad at my job. That being said, given all that we’ve been through… the Blip gave me a lot of perspective, even after a lifetime working for SHIELD. Relative ethics aside, I’d like to… see you more often. If that's all right.” </p><p>Scott gawked. “I… yes. Hell, yes.”</p>
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</div>Jimmy was snoring face-down on his bed when Scott peeked into the room. Grinning, Scott removed his suit, draping it on the desk, the only messy, out-of-place thing in the elegant room. Jimmy lived comfortably in a beautiful apartment, with everything neat and in its place—other than Scott. Maybe that was the draw.<p>“Hey, babe. You didn’t even get changed.” Scott peeled Jimmy’s suit jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up in the closet. He was loosening Jimmy’s tie when Jimmy woke up with a yawn and pulled Scott down onto the bed, rolling on top and kissing Scott clumsily, still half-asleep. Chuckling, Scott kissed back as he tugged off the tie and tossed it off the bed. “C’mon. Get changed.” </p><p>“Hmm.” Jimmy didn’t move, yawning instead as he started to unbutton his shirt. He didn’t appear to notice as Scott tensed up, the shirt peeling off to reveal the fit, scarred lines of Jimmy’s body. When Jimmy’s hands got to his belt, though, Scott caught his wrists and pulled up his hands to kiss his fingertips. “Scott?” </p><p>“You need sleep.” </p><p>Jimmy frowned at Scott, but even that little frown was adorable. “What about it?” </p><p>“If you take your clothes off like this right now, you’re not going to get any sleep.” Scott tried to grin and turn it into a joke, but his eyes were glued over Jimmy’s flat, toned stomach. They hadn’t moved far past heavy petting over the last couple of months—Jimmy didn’t often even have the time to catch dinner with Scott. </p><p>Jimmy gave him a weird look. “That’s the idea.” </p><p>“You fell asleep in your work clothes. How often does that happen?”</p><p>“Now and then,” Jimmy said, and pushed his thigh between Scott’s legs, kissing Scott when he groaned. </p><p>“If you fall asleep on me I’m so drawing on your face with markers,” Scott gasped in between kisses. </p><p>“Very mature,” Jimmy said, though he smiled as he pulled Scott’s shirt off and tossed it aside.</p><p>“Shower,” Scott said breathlessly, pushing at Jimmy’s thighs. He knew he smelled—no matter how much cooling tech Hank and Janet could fit into the Ant-Man suit, Scott tended to sweat in costume. Jimmy chuckled but let Scott up, pulling them into the bathroom, shedding their clothes along the way.</p><p>“Someday we’re going to slip and hurt ourselves,” Jimmy complained as Scott kissed him with the shower turned warm around them. </p><p>“I see we’re going to have to have our Appropriate Sex Talk discussion again,” Scott said, laughing.</p><p>“I’m serious. Statistically speaking, the number of accidents every year—”</p><p>“How many of those involve an overtrained SHIELD agent and a superhero?” </p><p>“I’m not overtrained,” Jimmy said, shivering as Scott licked a stripe up his throat to his jaw, “and you’re only very technically a superhero.” </p><p>“I fought beside Captain America and beat up invading creatures from outer space, I’m totally a superhero,” Scott said with a scowl, only for Jimmy to flash him a faint smirk. “Ooh, I’m getting you back for that.” </p><p>Jimmy let out a snort, but he was relaxed as Scott sucked water off his skin, as Scott pressed kisses against the pulse at his throat. Usually, he’d be on Scott’s case about wasting water, about how they’d end up catching a cold. Today had been a close call, though, close enough that if not for Ghost randomly deciding to intervene out of nowhere, they’d all be dead. Maybe that was it. Scott hadn’t ever gotten further than a quick shower handjob with Jimmy so far, not with Jimmy’s schedule always looming large around them. Jimmy gasped as Scott rubbed against him, hands scrabbling briefly against Scott’s arms before circling to his back to knead his ass. </p><p>Switching off the shower, Scott started to sink down to his knees, but Jimmy hauled him back up for a lingering kiss. Turning Scott to face the wall, Jimmy nudged Scott’s legs open with his knee and rubbed his cheek against Scott’s shoulders as Scott groaned and braced himself against the wall. Kissing the back of his neck, Jimmy made a tight first of his fingers around Scott’s cock for him to thrust in and hummed as he rubbed his cock against Scott’s ass, wedged in the cleft. Scott drove into the pressure, digging his nails into the seams between the bathroom tiles as he moaned, chasing his pleasure between the tight clench of Jimmy’s fingers and the heavy weight of the cock pressed so intimately against him.</p><p>“Scott,” Jimmy whispered, his voice thick with lust and tenderness, a warm weight that curled deeper inside Scott, wedging down as far as it could go. Scott folded down the memory of the sound, of the gentle brush of kisses over his shoulders that turned into bites, of the solid weight of the frame pressed behind him. Scott was coming in what felt like no time at all, tracing a stripe over the shower wall until Jimmy caught the rest in his palm. His cock was still pushed right over Scott’s hole, and for a moment Scott wanted to dare Jimmy to do more, even though water and spit weren’t going to work for his pain threshold, even though he hadn’t gotten clean and Jimmy didn’t look like the sort of person who kept condoms and lube in their bathroom cabinet. </p><p>Scott was tugged back around, pushed against the wall. Jimmy kissed him fiercely, his knuckles pressed against Scott’s skin as he used his soiled hand to stroke himself in sharp tugs. Scott hauled Jimmy closer, breathless and panting. As Jimmy shook into his messy release, it was Scott who groaned out aloud, who dug his fingertips into Jimmy’s hips to leave a string of bruises. </p><p>Jimmy was so sleepy that it was Scott who had to get them both cleaned up and towelled down. Jimmy had to be helped over to the bed, where he grumbled as he curled up under the sheets with Scott plastered over his back. “Early start tomorrow,” Jimmy muttered, glancing at the clock. “Sorry if I wake you up.” </p><p>“Early start meaning?”</p><p>“Six. Maybe less. Things to do.” </p><p>“That gives you a max of five hours of sleep.”</p><p>“I’ve worked longer on less,” Jimmy said, closing his eyes. </p><p>“You’re the boss. Let some minions handle it and go in late.” Scott set his jaw over Jimmy’s arm. “I’ll make it worth your while, babe.” </p><p>Jimmy sniffed, though he smiled faintly. “I doubt you can do anything that’d make it worth me being late to a meeting about galactic security.”</p><p>“Can I take that as a challenge?”</p><p>“…No.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>twitter: @manic_intent<br/>my writing, prompt policy: manic-intent.tumblr.com<br/>--<br/>Refs:<br/>https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/backlash-fbi-post-honoring-martin-luther-king-jr/story?id=68425778</p></blockquote></div></div>
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